The Afterlife
by inferisharkblood
Summary: The Afterlife tells Harry's story from immediately after the last sentence of the last chapter, chapter thirty-six: The Flaw in the Plan of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, up until the epilogue J.K. Rowling wrote.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harry turned to go, casting a fleeting look around the circular office, where, but a year ago, Dumbledore had first told him about horcruxes and Voldemort's past. That seemed like a lifetime ago. And now the hunt for Voldemort was over. Harry was free. It was over….

"We should go back to the Great Hall, Harry." …All over. Hermione's hand found his own, and together Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the office to more thunderous applause.

"What d'you reckon will happen to You-Know-Who's wand?" said Ron as they rounded the corner of the staircase leading to the Entrance Hall. "I mean his original one, not the Elder Wand." Normally Harry would have taken interest in such an important matter, but his grief for Lupin, Tonks, and Fred that we had put aside to defeat Voldemort threatened to submerge him. As they neared the Great Hall, Harry stopped to put on the Invisibility Cloak once more. He did not want to hear the whispers, feel their awestruck gazes on his back. Although he was used to such behavior from being called a murderer, the heir of Slytherin, and an unstable nutter, he preferred to remain unseen for now.

"Kingsley will handle it. He's the minister now," Harry said flatly.

"Temporarily. I mean, I'm not sure the ministry will want someone from the Order as Minister of Magic for long—".

"Nah, he'll stay. Who else is going to replace Thicknesse?" said Ron. Harry didn't hear Hermione's retort. McGonagall had stood from her chair at the head table and all whispered conversations were extinguished; Ron and Hermione stopped their half-hearted bickering and turned to look at the headmistress.

"If I could have your attention for a moment," she said as her eyes swept over the mass of students, teachers, Order members, ghosts, and magical creatures sitting together around the four house tables. "As you all know, Lord Voldemort is dead and his Death Eaters defeated. I commend all of you for your show of bravery and courage, especially Mr. Harry Potter, without whom, I'm afraid, we would be dead upon the floor as You-Know-Who is now." Heads swiveled around looking for the Boy Who Lived, but Harry remained under the cloak, just for the time being, he thought. He needed a word with Professor McGonagall.

"I would like to dedicate a toast in honor of all the losses suffered at the hands of Lord Voldemort." She raised a goblet off of the table, and as she did so, more goblets appeared at the four house tables. "To all those who fell victim to the events of tonight and to Harry Potter, the boy who lived and the man who triumphed." She raised her glass and seemed to look directly at Harry as the murmur of his name rippled across the Great Hall. McGonagall set down her goblet. "At present, I need to speak to members of the Order of the Phoenix and Hogwarts staff before Ministry officials arrive. Please meet me in my office in five minutes time." McGonagall stepped down from the staff table and began walking briskly towards Harry at a clipped pace. Once she had passed, Harry faced Ron and Hermione who were standing towards the right of the doorway of the Great Hall.

"I need to talk to Professor McGonagall," he said to them. Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice and Ron looked around frantically for Harry. Ron looked like he was going to say something, so Harry continued hurriedly. "Don't wait around for me, I might be a while. I'll see you in the dormitory," he added to Ron, who merely nodded. Harry figured that Ron was still numb from shock, although it seemed to be catching up to him, not yet having fully dealt with the pain of losing Fred.

"Harry," Hermione had not moved from Ron's side and she was looking a couple meters to the left of where Harry stood. "We'll be in the common room." From over her shoulder he could see Ginny sitting next to Mrs. Weasley, her head on her mother's shoulder. Harry had a sudden urge to run to her, but turned to follow McGonagall instead.

"You two need your sleep," he called over his shoulder to Ron and Hermione. "When was the last time any of us slept?" In fact, Harry didn't even know when the last time he had slept. He supposed it must have been at Shell Cottage the night before they broke into Gringotts. And even then he had not slept well with dreams of Voldemort drowning his unconsciousness.

"No, Harry's right." Ron cut in when Hermione looked like she was going to argue. "You need rest. We all need—" his voice cracked and he steered Hermione towards the Great Hall, where they no doubt would join the huddle of Weasleys. Ron looked once more over his shoulder back toward the area which Harry stood invisible. Kingsley began striding toward the door followed closely by Mr. Weasley, Neville's gran, Sprout, Slughorn, Flitwick, and Bill and Charlie both of whom were supporting a wounded Firenze. Although Madame Pomfrey had stemmed the blood flow and new skin had stretched tight over his flank, he still limped with difficulty. Harry immediately took off toward Dumbledore's—now McGonagall's office. He could only hope for a few minutes alone with her in order to confide…to confide what? Everything, he supposed. Although, he would need more than just a few minutes to encompass even a fraction of the beginning. Not to mention the middle and end.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry skidded to a stop in front of the stone gargoyle. He ripped off the cloak and shoved it inside his robes. He was panting, bent over with his hands on his knees, not able to utter a single word for lack of breath. "I-I need…to s-see…Prof-essor…McGonagall," he gasped to the gargoyle.

"There's no password yet, but you should knock," it groaned allowing Harry to stagger up the stairs.

"Right, thanks," he said. But the door to the office was open when he reached the top, so Harry stepped inside. The portraits of all the headmasters nodded to Harry as he walked further into the room. He caught the bright blue eye of Dumbledore and couldn't help but smile. "Professor McGonagall?"

"Potter!" she appeared from behind Dumbledore's pensieve which she had apparently been studying. "My word, the ministry officials will surely be here soon to discuss important matters, and I strongly discourage you from being here when they arrive, seeing as you do not look up to questioning at the moment." The surrounding headmasters and headmistresses nodded their approval and Dumbledore said, "A wise decision, Minerva."

"Yes, I know, Professor, but I need to talk to you before anyone else comes." Seeing her look of surprise, he added hastily, "It's urgent." She looked hesitantly towards the open door behind Harry and made her decision. She flicked her wand at the door and it snapped shut.

"Very well, Potter. But speak quickly; I have others coming as well."

"Yes Professor, but, you may want to sit down. Some of this may come as a shock." She gave him a quizzical look, but perched on the edge of the chair he had so often occupied in front of Dumbledore's desk, clearly intrigued. Deciding to avoid pretenses to save time, Harry plunged right in. "A year ago, Professor Dumbledore told me he wanted to give me private lessons. I didn't know what they were for. Ron and Hermione suspected he would teach me how to defend myself against Voldemort. But they were wrong. Dumbledore knew something about Voldemort that no one else had. There was only one way to defeat Voldemort, sort of like a divide and conquer outlook—" Harry was abruptly cut off by a knock on the office door.

McGonagall, who had not been aware of Harry's private lessons with Dumbledore the previous year, was transfixed on Harry. "Enter," the door opened and she spared a glance at the group huddled around the threshold. Kinsley was holding the door open as Bill and Charlie shuffled Firenze across the room; Mr. Weasley, Sprout, Slughorn, and Flitwick all hung back, peering around Kingsley into the room. He moved aside and they all filed into the office.

"Minerva, I thought you said…" Kingsley trailed off as he looked back and forth between Harry and McGonagall. Suddenly Harry had an idea. He would have to tell the wizarding community eventually, so why not start with those he loved and trusted?

"Wait." He turned to face the headmistress. "Professor McGonagall, they should stay. I want—no, no I need them to hear this, too."

"Minerva, what—" Kingsley looked torn between curiosity and having the meeting with McGonagall and the others.

"Kingsley," McGonagall addressed all of them holding each of their gazes, finally finding Harry's green eyes. "Kingsley, Potter is ready to tell us exactly what he has been doing for the past two years on Dumbledore's orders." Mr. Weasley slumped into a chair looking back and forth from McGonagall to Harry, finally deciding that it was true while Slughorn held his handkerchief against his forehead mid-wipe looking stunned. Bill and Charlie exchanged looks over the top of Firenze's head, Kingsley looked faintly surprised and Phineas Nigellus said, "Really now, it's about time!"

"Headmistress," Kingsley looked pained, "as much as I want to hear Potter's story, as I know it will fill in many empty gaps in the past couple of years, I believe our time would be better spent on discussing the evacuation and clean up of Hogwarts before the Ministry officials arrive. It'd be best to have a plan ready prior to their arrival." He turned to Harry, "Harry, I promise you, we will hear what you have to say, it's important that we do; however, not at the present." Harry couldn't believe it. He strode toward the door, livid. Hadn't they been the ones to ask repeatedly what Dumbledore had left him to do? Hadn't they been the ones to heckle him at every turn about whether or not they could help? Wouldn't each and every one of them have given their wands just the day before to know what he, Ron, and Hermione had been doing while they were picked off one-by-one by the Ministry? With his hand on the door he said coolly, "That's fine, but you should know that you'll find Snape's body in the Shrieking Shack." Professor Sprout gasped and Slughorn spluttered a few incoherent words of shock. Harry ignored them; relishing the sounds of their ignorance, he carried on. "Yeah, and he was one of the bravest men I've ever known."

McGonagall let out an indignant cry and Mr. Weasley said, "Harry! That's an insult to Dumbledore's memory."

"Not to mention all of the victims of You-Know-Who!" said Flitwick.

"Everything I said to Voldemort," (Slughorn squeaked and wiped his forehead with the handkerchief), "about Snape was true and he should be honored as a hero. He's the reason we're all still alive—"

"No, Harry, _you're_ the reason we're—"

Harry whirled around. "I couldn't have defeated Voldemort without Snape's help. I was going to tell—"

"My goodness! What took you so long, Severus?" Phineas looked positively delighted as he stared over the heads of Bill, Charlie and Firenze, all of whom were sitting on the floor looking puzzled. Directly above them, a portrait had appeared of a wizard with greasy black hair and a great hooked nose.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"I was beginning to think you'd never show, especially after hearing what the Potter boy's just said." Snape attempted a smile at Phineas which looked like it would have been more appropriate at a deathday party.

Slughorn drew his wand and ambled across the office. "That portrait cannot stay here," he puffed. "In Dumbledore's old office, no less."

"No!" All faces, living and painted, turned towards Harry. "Leave him there, it's where he belongs." Harry maneuvered away from the door through the group until he was level with Severus Snape.

Snape raised his eyebrows until they were no longer visible beneath his long hair. "Yes, Potter? I take it you have seen everything I left you with? It no doubt took you several centuries to figure out what it all meant." He sneered. Harry bit back his retort and ignored this last bit.

"Yes, I have," he said. "And…I-I just wanted…to say…tosaythankyou." Every word seemed yanked from his throat. "For saving George…for helping Dumbledore…and the Order…and…for helping…for helping me. Although, I would have much rather avoided jumping into a frozen pond in the dead of winter," he added ruefully.

"I suppose…" Snape didn't crack a grin.

Slughorn was still standing with his wand at the ready and mouth slightly open. McGonagall was the first to break the shocked silence.

"We should really discuss the—"

"Excuse me, Headmistress," one of the portraits wheezed, "but the Ministry officials have departed and should be here in a mo'."

"Merlin's beard! Thank you, Everard, we need to discuss the evacuation of students, the graduation ceremony for seventh years, as well as a summer plan for the restoration of Hogwarts." Although Harry wanted to find Ginny and then sleep, he knew it would benefit him to know what the plans were.

"If parents want to take their children home now, then I think it is fine to do so. Since the dormitories were untouched by the battle, the other students should be able to stay, "said Kingsley.

"I second that," squeaked Flitwick from behind Professor Sprout.

"And I," Sprout said.

"It's as good a plan as any," said Mr. Weasley and Bill nodded.

"Firenze," McGonagall turned her gaze to the floor where the centaur lay with Bill and Charlie, "what say you?"

Firenze took his time answering; what was McGonagall playing at? Firenze usually pondered everything in the world and then spoke in riddled answers, thought Harry. Why should this question be any different? But he was surprised when Firenze answered almost immediately after a brief pause to gather his breath, "What is one more night away from their mothers? They survived this year under He-Who-Must-Not-Named; I believe it to be safer now that he is dead many floors below. Do you not, Headmistress?"

"No, I agree," McGonagall said. "We will hold graduation for seventh years in two days time. We will devote tomorrow's efforts to evacuating those who wish to leave Hogwarts as well as preparing for the ceremony." She motioned to Harry. "Potter, you, Weasley, and Miss Granger will also partake in the ceremony. I doubt neither you nor Mr. Weasley had any inclination to return to take your N.E.W.T.s. Am I right?"

"Yes, Professor," he said uncomfortably. His collar felt awfully hot against his neck. "But, don't I have to repeat my seventh year if I want to become an Auror?"

"Potter, we can discuss your career options later, but I doubt it, seeing as what you've just accomplished."

"And I can talk with you more in depth on that subject, Harry," said Kingsley. "But what of the dead?" He turned to face McGonagall. "The bodies have been moved to the Entrance Hall for the time being, but they must be taken care of."

Mr. Weasley drew in a sharp breath and Harry knew he was thinking of the son he had just lost.

"Hogwarts cannot be the judge of where the bodies will go. The families will want to hold their own ceremonies. If anyone wishes for a body to be buried here on the grounds, a funeral can be arranged. In the meantime, I shall have those bodies moved."

"Moved to where, Minerva?" Professor Sprout looked grim as she spoke, her patched hat was still smoldering at the tip from the battle. "Most of the castle is damaged. You say the dormitories went untouched. Three of the house dormitories will be occupied tonight, but I'm sure the other will do—"

"Do you mean to pile a bunch of dead bodies in the Slytherin dormitories?" Slughorn shook a stubby finger in Sprout's direction. Mr. Weasley tensed and moved to stand up at the harsh outburst, but Charlie spoke first.

"Those _bodies _are friends and family and they're to be treated with respect," Charlie ground his teeth as Slughorn turned from red to a shade of deep purple that would put Uncle Vernon to shame.

"Yes, well—" Slughorn spluttered but no more words came out.

Harry knew a room that could house the bodies until burial, but he wasn't sure if it had been destroyed in Crabbe's fiendfyre. "Professor McGonagall, I know a room that can be used. I'm not sure if it was undamaged, but I can check if you'd like."

"Potter, that would be much appreciated." McGonagall looked away from Slughorn, who seemed to calm at Harry's solution.

"They're walking across the lawn now, Professor," Bill spoke from the window where he had gotten up to peer into the rising sun.

"Oh my, well, Potter, I suggest you get up to your dormitory and rest before the ministry officials arrive here. No doubt they'll have brought Rita Skeeter with them. Oh she'll eat it up," she said more to herself than anyone.

"Rita Skeeter? Is she even allowed here at Hogwarts?" Bill turned back to face the room.

"I'm afraid so, Bill. You see, she's the best at what the Daily Prophet does: spreading lies, creating rumors, exaggerating—"

"Minerva!" Professor Sprout whispered seconds before anyone else in the room could here it.

There were muffled voices outside the office door. "Harry, your cloak," Dumbledore whispered from his portrait.

"What—?" Slughorn looked around for Harry, but he had already withdrawn the cloak from his pocket and thrown it over himself. He moved into the corner near the pensieve where McGonagall had stood before.

"Now really, Rita. The boy won't talk with that bloody quill out—"

"Nonsense, Dawlish. Potter'll confide anything in me; we're really very close, you know."

"Rita, if you plan on getting anything out of Potter, you'll have to do so quickly. Fudge is coming in ten minutes, and you know Potter hates him. He won't say a damn thing," said a new voice Harry didn't recognize. "Do you know if Dolores is coming?"

"GAWAIN ROBARDS, DO YOU MEAN TO INSTRUCT ME ON HOW TO DO MY JOB!"

"Rita! Keep it the bloody hell down!" Dawlish cried. Everyone in the office was staring at the door. "I don't think she could make it, Gawain. Still looking for that missing eye. She's interrogating everyone on her floor—" But before he could finish his sentence, McGonagall had flicked her wand and the door flew open.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Momentarily caught off guard, Rita was scowling darkly at an older man Harry guessed was Robards. But in a matter of seconds, she had rearranged her face into a smile that she must have thought was dazzling. "Oooh, a party," she cooed. She sucked the tip of her acid green quill and moved into the room followed by the Auror Harry recognized as Dawlish. Rita had made a lavish comeback from unemployment. Her hair was no longer tangled and unkempt, but curled in little blonde ringlets that hung around her face and her new rhinestone studded glasses.

"We were just discussing an evacuation plan for Hogwarts," Kingsley addressed the wizard named Robards. There were only four of them, as far as Harry could see. Rita glided across the room to examine the pensieve. Harry sucked in his stomach as she passed him; the cloak flapped at his feet and for one terrible second, Dawlish looked as though he had seen his trainers.

But then McGonagall started talking and all attention was drawn away from the corner. "We have decided on a plan of action. Parents who wish to take home their children may do so at their convenience. Graduation of seventh years will be moved to the day after tomorrow and the Hogwarts Express will arrive the following morning to deliver the remaining students to King's Cross Station." The room was silent save for the scratching of Rita Skeeter's acid green Quick Quotes Quill hovering next to Harry's ear.

"And what of Hogwarts? Are you positive that the school is safe to stay in?" A wizard behind Dawlish spoke to Kingsley, but McGonagall cut in quickly.

"The dormitories were not damaged during the fight. However, they are being searched as we speak by a Hogwarts staff member." The wizard did not look satisfied with her answer, though.

"Proudfoot, the students of Hogwarts will no longer be in danger," Kingsley said in his deep reassuring tone to the wizard who nodded his head in satisfaction.

"I will assemble the Aurors to assist you in the search, Minerva."

"Thank you, Robards. I'm glad you know how to do that. I was beginning to worry that as the head of the Auror Department, you could not even assemble your men, as demonstrated by tonight's events." She cocked her head to one side. "After all, the Minister was here fighting alongside the Death Eaters; I wonder whether or not he relayed the message to you." McGonagall gave him a cold smile. Robards had lost his slight smile and he openly scowled at her.

Proudfoot addressed McGonagall, "Where is the body of You-Know-Who?"

The question seemed to shock Robards from his sulk. "Yes, it will need to be properly disposed of. I think—"

"_I_ think you're forgetting who has been named standing Minister of Magic, Robards." Kingsley stood to his full height towering over the other wizard, who looked, Harry thought, quite frightened by Kingsley's threatening tone. "That decision will be made by me. Your opinion is welcome, but don't let yourself forget: it is just that: an opinion."

Robards seemed to evaluate the situation and took a step back. "You're right, _Minister_. How could I have forgotten? Let me ask," he paused, "what _do_ you plan to do with You-Know-Who's body? And not only his, but what of all the others? Death Eaters and others?"

But McGonagall spoke before Kingsley could answer. "The decision has been made to allow the families of the dead to make their own arrangements for the bodies, and if the families wish to have their loved ones buried on Hogwarts' grounds, then the ceremony will be arranged by the school. Those bodies will be kept in a room that I have been informed will accommodate them well. Do you have any more queries?"

_Hem-hem_. From the corner next to Harry, Rita's cough sounded like Dolores Umbridge's and McGonagall started. "Minerva, this night must have worn you out a great deal. I am sure that you as well as everyone else in this room are extremely exhausted from your extraordinary efforts tonight. And Potter, oh poor Potter. I mean, he's the boy of the moment—" Harry had a feeling that Rita was getting closer to what she really wanted. McGonagall seemed to feel the same way, for at that moment, she cut off Rita mid-sentence.

"What do you want?" she said bluntly.

Rita's mouth hung open in a comical 'o', but she quickly regained her composure and carried on. "I must talk to Potter. The public should have an accurate first hand account of the events of and leading up to tonight." She leaned against the pensieve waving her long green quill airily, moving closer to Harry. He held his breath as she continued, "Potter's the only one who can give me the full scoop. And frankly he owes the public an explanation. I think we all wonder why he's been invisible this entire year. What, has he been hiding under an invisibility cloak the whole time?" she asked the room at large and laughed throatily.

"Harry is, as you say, exhausted. He is currently in his dormitory sleeping. I will not permit you to see him now." Harry felt a rush of affection toward his former teacher. "When he is rested, he can choose whether or not to entrust the truth with you. However, I can hardly promise he will agree to it. Nothing that comes out of your quill is ever even ten percent honest." Rita's lip had curled involuntarily at this. Just as she was about to throw a retort back at McGonagall, however, there was a sharp rap on the door. Everyone in the room jumped and Harry whipped his head around to face the door.

Kingsley opened it a crack and then, seeing who it was, all the way. In the doorway stood two people, one twisting a lime green bowler hat in his hands and the other's horrible pink cardigan just barely visible to Harry. But it was enough. The scars on the back of his hand burned.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Cornelius." Kingsley acknowledged him with a curt nod and Flitwick made a noise like a growl. _Hem hem_. Apparently, Umbridge did not enjoy being ignored, but no one in the room formally acknowledged her. Bill crossed his arms, but stayed at the window watching the scene unfold in silent concentration.

Rita stood at attention. She snatched her quill from the air mid-sentence and sucked on the tip, while unfurling a clean roll of parchment she extracted hurriedly from her massive green crocodile-skin bag. Harry pressed himself even tighter against the wall. After crumpling the used parchment into her bag, she shoved the thing into Harry's leg. He stifled a gasp and his eyes began to water; it must have contained about a dozen of her books _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore _he thought. There was no other possible explanation for the sharp corners that had jabbed his shin from inside the monster. Rita didn't notice as he pushed her bag away with his foot. She was too busy setting her Quick-Quotes Quill onto the new parchment.

Mr. Weasley had jumped up, his back as stiff and straight as a board, his eyes narrowed. He moved closer to Slughorn, all sentiments from the brawl before forgotten. Sprout took his other side, and together, the three formed an intimidating wall. Flitwick stood next to Sprout, but his height in comparison with the others didn't give off the same aura. Dawlish was shunted to the back of the room, along with Proudfoot. Robards remained standing beside McGonagall.

But it wasn't Fudge that stepped first into the room. Dolores Umbridge waddled in, scowling profoundly at McGonagall and anyone else who made eye contact with her toad-like face. When she saw Robards she broke into a wide ugly grin that revealed pink lipstick stains on her two front teeth. McGonagall seemed to bristle like a cat as Umbridge walked past her to stand between Robards and Kingsley, surveying the room. With the exception of Rita, Fudge, and the Ministry officials, everyone in the room, including Harry, was glowering at Umbridge, although she seemed quite unfazed by this. Harry could almost feel the electric tension sparking the air in the room. Fudge still stood awkwardly in the doorway twirling his bowler cap between his hands. He seemed to debate whether or not to cross the threshold, and decided against it, instead leaning up against the door jam in an attempt to look casual. The effect was ruined, Harry thought, by Fudge's apparent nervousness. He frequently wiped his upper lip with a shaking hand while his eyes darted around the room, glancing away when he caught someone's eye.

"I wonder what you are doing here, Dolores." McGonagall's tone suggested that she rather wished Umbridge never show her toad-face at Hogwarts ever again.

"Oh, Minerva, I merely assisted Cornelius here." As if Fudge had never been to Hogwarts, thought Harry. Fudge, for one, looked quite taken aback by this. He was about to open his mouth to say something in his defense, but thought better of it and busied himself with picking some lint off of his hat.

"Well, he has been—what was the word? Ah yes, _assisted_. I'm sure Cornelius is eternally grateful for your efforts." Her sarcasm wiped the grin clean off Umbridge's face, and had the situation not been so serious, Harry would have laughed. "He will call on you when he is ready to leave." Fudge looked insulted at being discussed like an incapable ancient man, but he remained silent and returned to picking the nonexistent lint from his hat. The two women didn't break eye contact for what seemed like a century.

"Actually, Minerva," Umbridge pronounced McGonagall's name with enough venom to kill everyone in the room, "I thought I might stay and have a say in the proceedings. I'd like to discuss what will happen to Hogwarts as well as the countless bodies down—"

"Actually, Dolores," McGonagall's mimic of Umbridge was perfect, although Harry thought she could have killed everyone in the school with all of her suppressed rage and hate, "you will neither have a say, nor do you deserve one. Quite frankly no one appreciates your presence here and it would be a disservice to Hogwarts if I were to allow you to engage in the, ah, _proceedings_."

"If you were to—if _you_ were—_allow_—allow_ me_—" Umbridge could not recover from her shock quick enough to form a coherent retort as McGonagall drew breath and continued.

"Furthermore, the proceedings you speak of have already been settled and decisions have been made. If you had arrived a bit earlier, say, when we needed help from the Ministry in the fight against Voldemort and his supporters, then you might have heard our discussion. I presume that bad timing runs in the Ministry's blood." McGonagall's eyes blazed with a controlled anger. Harry had seen that look before in a pair of bright blue eyes now set in a portrait above McGonagall's head.

The only sounds in the room, other than Umbridge's labored breathing, came from the corner of the pensieve where Harry stood flattened against the wall. Rita was having a field day beside him. She couldn't get new sheaves of parchment out of her monster green crocodile bag fast enough as her quill zoomed across the page, scrawling line after line after line.

Umbridge made a move to speak, but McGonagall cut her off quickly. She seemed to be relishing this blatant form of retribution. "You may wait outside the office for Cornelius," Fudge eyed her contemptuously, "or return to the Ministry. And let me remind you that in order to apparate, you must be outside Hogwarts boundaries. Good day, Dolores."

Umbridge finally glanced down to avoid McGonagall's glare, only to make eye contact with Firenze, who was gazing at her with disgust. Her face contorted into a look of pure fear; apparently she had not noticed Firenze slumped on the floor next to Charlie Weasley.

"Oeia!" She shrieked like a banshee and quickly backed up into the human wall made of Slughorn, Sprout, and Mr. Weasley. She stumbled over to the door and nearly collided with Fudge. Her hands clawed the front of his robes and he dropped his hat in shock.

"Dolores! Get a hold of yourself," said Fudge looking quite perturbed.  
"Cornelius," Umbridge rasped into his ear, "it's one of the half-breeds! I remember him! He took me—tortured me—"

Her whisper carried and McGonagall interrupted. "Dolores. Do not speak in that undermining way, as if you were higher than a centaur because of your magical status! Firenze did not carry you into the forest. As you should remember quite well, he was under the employ of Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts as divination teacher at the time." McGonagall's hands were shaking and the wand she was holding emitted red sparks. "Leave Hogwarts immediately. You have no business here."

Umbridge was still clinging to Fudge's robes, but her eyes were strangely misty. "I think I shall escort her back to the Ministry, Minerva." Fudge said in an oddly detached voice. His eyes were glazed, as well. Harry looked around the room and saw Flitwick stowing his wand back into his robes.

"Yes, Headmistress. I think we'd all better go." Gawain Robards walked out of the office followed closely by Proudfoot and Dawlish, the latter of whom, although imperiused, did not look much different than he normally did. Rita Skeeter was last to pack up her massive bag. Harry glimpsed inside, and sure enough, there were at least eight copies of her best-selling biography on Dumbledore.

The door snapped shut behind her blonde ringlets and the room was left in a deafening silence.


End file.
